The Watchmaker's Apprentice
by Naked-toes
Summary: Switzerland/ Male!Reader. Steampunk AU. Inspired by the song 'The Watchmaker's Apprentice' by the Clockwork Quartet.


You ran through the smoke filled streets, the only light the gas lamps every few yards or so. The air was freezing; the chill even more obvious given your clothes; a tattered brown waistcoat over a thin shirt, a tool belt hanging lopsidedly from your waist. You were filthy; covered in grease, cinders and mud. The air was pungent; polluted by the factories that had sprung up all over the city. But the air was becoming saltier with every one of you steps on the cobbled road.

You knew he was looking for you; but he'd never find you. Not now. You were only a short distance from the docks; the mooring point for airships that came from all over the world. And once you'd boarded one of them, there'd be no way for him to find you. And wherever you ended up, you'd be able to set up shop there. After all, everywhere needed a watchmaker.

There was only one ship leaving that day. Initially, the captain had glared down at you with green eyes that seemed to pierce into your soul but had finally let you aboard when you produced the three shillings he requested. He mumbled where the airship was headed, but you hardly heard him; you just wanted to escape. You stared back at the city as the ship rose into the sky, letting the wind ruffle your hair, drumming the wood with a steady beat. Finally, it was done. _Finally._

A smile made its way across your face as you thought of how it had started. It was crazed, demented, manic; like you had lost your mind from what had happened to you.

And you wouldn't be surprised if you had.

But we should start from the beginning, shouldn't we? The start, when you, a homeless waif, had finally found there was a roof over your head. You'd run away from the orphanage at the tender age of ten and since then you'd always fended for yourself, trusting nobody and being trusted by nobody. Which was why you were so surprised at being offered an apprenticeship. And a _watchmaker's_ apprenticeship too.

Becoming a watchmaker was higher than you'd ever expected to go; a gift from the gods. Finally, your life was beginning to turn for the better. At least that was what you'd thought before you met your esteemed employer. From the very moment he first took in your scrawny figure, face coated with dirt, Vash Zwingli had seemed to hate you.

It wasn't just the hard work; you would have been able to cope if it had. No, it was everything about the way he treated you. Sure, you learned the trade as good as any, but the food he provided you with was meagre; almost scraps. You were given a pillow and the shop floor as a bedchamber, forced to work for days at a time and given only a pittance as a wage. You weren't fussy; your years on the streets had ensured that, but there was still a line you wouldn't let anybody cross.

And Vash had crossed that line. Utterly.

You'd awoken in the middle of the night to find your employer glaring down at you, giving you only a few seconds to wake before telling you to leave. He didn't even explain why; you only found out you'd been replaced when you'd found an advertisement on a scrap of newspaper; 'Zwingli and Co: the only Watchmakers in Defluna to use an Automaton.' It was obvious why he'd done this to you; automatons don't require a wage; you were obviously too much of a drain on his resources.

He had chosen to kick you out in winter too. You would have frozen to death if you hadn't thought of finding an underground boiler room to occupy. The room was leaky; a constant trickle of water entering it from above; either rainwater or melted snow. The boiler heat never allowed them to freeze, meaning you often woke up in a lake of water.

The only way you could think of to find money was to use your hands. You became a pickpocket, the lowest of the low; taking coins when gentlemen's attentions were elsewhere. It was a pitiful existence and there was only one person to blame for it. Vash Zwingli.

And there was nowhere else you could think of to go to.

You were surprised that he kept the back window unlocked, especially given his approach to vandals. Though then again, if he trusted his shotgun that much, he shouldn't have felt such a need to keep every door locked. You came back night after night, trying to summon the courage to enter.

And, one day, you found it.

The window frame creaked as you snuck in; Vash obviously wasn't prepared to pay the money to oil the hinge. Your boots made a steady beat on the wooden floor as you walked into the main part of the workshop. The tools were neatly packed away, except for a single file, lying in the floor like it had been left to fend for itself. You bent down to pick it up, kneeling on the floor and trying to decide what to do. And that was when it hit you; a wide, crazed smile making its way onto your face.

The very thing that had caused Vash to leave you was the one thing you could use to hurt him; your free will. And there was one single way to have revenge that would be fitting, so fitting that nobody would ever suspect you.

You worked quickly; willing the dawn to wait until you were done. This was truly the perfect crime; undetectable and utterly fitting. Finally, when you were done, you placed your creation on the table with the others; a perfectly formed pocket watch; plain, but perfectly formed. And it kept perfect time.

You had no regrets.

From what you had heard of the man who bought it, your entire plan had seemed to work out. The police report might have been censored, but the word was still there on the streets; that a gentleman had purchased a watch from Zwingli and Co and had been found in the streets the day after; the metal and flesh fused. It was obvious who the culprit was; the watchmaker had obvious lost his mind.

They arrested Vash later that night. Of course, they didn't let it get out; he just disappeared one night, leaving his shop unattended and empty. And while he'd avoided a prison sentence, he'd only just been able to make bail. He was a ruined man; utterly and entirely.

He must have known it was you; he must have. There was nobody else who would have thought of this. But he'd never find you; not now. The ship sailed away from the city, the sun just starting to rise in the east. You left the deck and returned to your cabin, your smile growing ever wider. It had all worked out perfectly.

It had all worked out like clockwork.


End file.
